© January 3, 2009 by Norman Stolpe
Watch my feet
so I don't stumble,
or watch the peaks
and touch the thrill?
Journeying toward a lifted heart,
I step over decaying logs -
depression threatening to distract
my vision from my pilgrim goal.
I lift my voice into the wind,
singing with leaf and peak and light.
Joy, a soaring, screaming falcon
rides to the buoyant thermals' height.
My elated hands are lifting
- within, between - substantial peace.
My benediction broadcasting
from holy place to holy space.
With lifted hands and eyes and voice,
the elevation of my heart
snuggles into divine embrace -
depths of pilgrimage complete.
